Promise
by Llini Guisli
Summary: Spoilers 04x03. On November second, 1983… Promise me you won’t get out of bed. Oneshot.


Hi!  
So, here I am. This is the first story I've written about Supernatural, so I hope you like it. Besides, and most important, this is a translation of my fic "Promete", which is in spanish. As english isn't my mother tongue, there might be some mistakes with my grammar. I hope it's legible enoguh, though xD.

(Spoilers 04x03)

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**Promise**

Jamming, crying… _Sam_?

The noise made Mary wake up; years had passed and still the lowest variation in the atmosphere could get her out of bed immediately. After all, she had lived many years ready for anything. She stretched out her arm to switch on the light.

'John?'

_He always enjoyed spending time with the kids. He played football with Dean whenever he asked him to, even those days when he was so tired that he would get home frowning and shrugging, while saying __'I think I'm gonna sleep till the day after tomorrow'._

No, he wasn't in bed. She yawned —almost a murmur— and stood up reluctantly. Sam was nearly quiet now; most probably John was already there, accompanying him… He would've wakened first, as so many times before, and ran to see if his child was all right.

_Sometimes Mary got surprised of how things had changed. How _she_ had changed. When her parents were alive, she could hardly get some rest during the night. Alert, that's how she'd been raised; once, she woke up completely sure that she'd heard someone inside the room. 'Demons,' she had thought right before withdrawing the gun. It turned out to be just a bird sitting on the window. At that time, Mary was seven._

She left the room and headed to her son's. It was dark, except for the dim light coming out of the boy's room. Once she reached the door, she confirmed that there was John, looking after Sam, with his hands resting on the crib, as usual.

'John,' she called. He didn't turn to face her. 'Is he hungry?'

A soft hissing told her not to talk; she could wake little Sammy up. 'OK,' she said. Mary turned round, thinking of going back to the comfort of her bed. After all, Sam would be all right with his father.

_John's reaction was immensely smaller than she'd thought it'd be._

'_Demons?' he insisted, and Mary nodded. He didn't ask much more, and let his future wife explain everything. He listened carefully and didn't reply anything when she ended._

'_I will always love you for exactly what you are,' John had said some time ago. It had been that way._

A flickering light attracted her attention. They used to leave it on because Dean's room was right beside it, and sometimes —he had told them— he needed to go out but was too scared. A couple of knocks and it went normal again. When she finally decided to go back to her room, some voices distracted her. But no… it wasn't voices _in the house_. Surely John had forgotten to turn off the television before going to sleep.

She got to the first floor, confused: the man was pretty tidy, and wasn't used to leaving things on whenever he went out of a room. _Well_, she thought, _it happens to everyone_. And yet something was bothering her. And that made her feel awkward, by imagining evil things everywhere, while knowing that that life had ended long ago, with her parent's death.

She stepped forward until the view of the living room made her stop. She was almost petrified glazing at John, who slept comfortably at the couch.

_Ten__ years… Ten years! God, it was impressive the way time seemed to go at the rhythm it wanted to._

_Mary still remembered that boy, Dean. Like her son. He had helped her; he had been the only hunter that actually seemed to think of her wealth._

But there was no time to stay still.

'Sam! Sammy!'

_He had said something — During November, but… when? He asked her to remember. She promised she would._

Mary went upstairs with a knot in her stomach and her heart bumping. Dean's room was intact; no one could've entered there without her noticing from the stairs.

_November... Could it be that day?_

She turned on the hallway as fast as she could. If she was right… No, it couldn't be. But the clear thought —_the certainty_— that ten years had passed since that boy showed up made her shiver. Because along with Dean _he_ had came. With her hand she held to the door's frame, stopping abruptly inside Sam's room.

When she was young, she didn't use to be afraid. A lot of times she had felt her pulse accelerated, the illusion of fear. But nothing of that could be ever compared to the way she felt when the man turned his face and his eyes shone with the light. _Yellow_.

'It's you…'

'_The deal is fair, the deal is fair,' Mary repeated to herself tireless.__ She did that every time the image of her possessed father came to her mind, or when, at night, the dread invaded her. Though, gradually that fear started being displaced. It didn't stop existing; it just got buried amongst all the good things that were happening to her._

_John… Oh, John! What could she have done if John were dead? Without Dean, without her little Sammy. It meant ten years of insured safety._

'_As long as I'm not interrupted, nobody gets hurt.'_

She tried to reach her son, run, even knowing it was a useless attempt; she didn't have a chance against him. But he was _her son_. Her family. Midway between the door and the crib, she felt some force pulling her back, immobilizing her against the wall. Then she started being painfully dragged towards the ceiling. And that was the least she cared about.

_Mary is happy. For the first time in years, she's really happy. Holding Dean while John smiled by her side, hugging her. Their new house in Lawrence, and the Impala… 'It's a wonderful car, Mary'. She always nodded, joyful, her heart filled with happiness._

_No demons and no hunting, only them and their son._

Her head hit against the roof and she felt her neck bending by the pressure. _Sam_. She needed him — needed to know he would be _safe_. And Dean and John. Hunting days had passed, and she couldn't help feeling weak, unprotected from this threat; even though, her body needed to stop him.

From above she caught sight of Sam, intact. But what could assure that he wouldn't hurt him afterward?

_She used to tell Dean that angels were looking after him. He looked at her with his eyes wide open, covered to the nose under the sheets, and listened carefully to his mother's words._

_Once, he asked if they were also taking care of Sammy, and Mary couldn't do anything but smile._

'_Of course,' she muttered._

Mary was imprisoned. And it hurt. It hurt every time the Yellow Eyed Demon pressed a little harder on her body against the wall. She tried to scream; the only thing she could hope for was John to get the boys out of the house, save them. She saw him smiling before closing her eyes.

'_On November second, 1983… Don't get out of bed. No matter what you hear or what you see. Promise me you won't get out of bed.'_

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**About the Fanfic:** Still here? Great :D First of all, thanks for reading it! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. About my english... well xD. If there's any mistake (there must be some) please don't hesitate on letting me know, so I can fix it :P

Then again, thanks for reading!


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